Daughter of the Dawn
by Kathoran
Summary: Legolas sat beside Telumë and wrapped her wing, listening as Aragorn spoke softly to her. "What are you?" Aragorn asked, watching the dragon closely. She looked at him carefully, her bright eyes dimming with sadness. She lowered her head, veiling her eyes. The world suddenly seemed much darker with them hidden from view. "I do not know," she replied sadly. "Perhaps I never did.""
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

Aragorn led the way, his footsteps making little to no noise on the rocks littered along the base of the mountains. He and Legolas were travelling near Ered Mithrim, hoping to meet up with the rest of the Dúnedain within the next few weeks. So far they had made good time, stopping only at midday to eat and at dusk to sleep. Dawn found them moving again, two hunters passing through the wilds of the North.

"Aragorn."

Sensing the warning in his voice, the ranger stopped mid stride and turned to face his friend. The elf prince stood very still, his bow in his hands. An arrow rested on the string. Meeting Aragorn's stormy grey eyes with his bright blue ones, the elf nodded towards an outcropping some ways ahead.

_"What is it?"_ the young ranger asked softly, moving to stand beside the elf. Legolas shook his head, his normally smooth face drawn in worry. _"Is it orcs? Goblins? Dwarves?"_

The elf shook his head, his lips drawn in a thin line. He knew exactly what was ahead, and it would be a miracle if they were able to avoid it. In all likelihood, both he and his friend would be small piles of ash by the end of the hour, but he decided against telling his friend this. Instead, he glanced his way and smiled dryly. _"Dragon."_

The ranger looked shocked. Although he was nearly sixty years old, he still looked young for a mortal. He was of the line of Númenor, and he was to have a long life, at least by human standards—assuming he was not eaten or burned before he grew up. The elf winced. Both his father and sister, Aeyera, had told him to watch over Aragorn; he had a feeling that leading him directly into harm's way was not their idea of "keeping him safe." His sister, were she around, would surely be yelling at him for coming this way at all. However, it had been nearly fifty years since he had seen her, and he did not think he would be able to meet her again for a long time.

Blinking, he turned his attention to the matter at hand. As skilled as the ranger was, he was also reckless; already he was reaching for his sword. Legolas's hand darted out and grabbed the ranger's wrist tightly, stopping it an inch away from the pommel. He shook his head and released him. _"Not that way, mellon nin,"_ he said, glancing at where he knew the beast to be. _"You would be dead in seconds."_

Aragorn nodded, his hands resting at his sides. Although he looked relaxed, the elf's keen eyes could see the minute tremors in his hands and the way his eye darted back and forth between the rocks and the forest several miles away. _"Perhaps we could run," _the ranger suggested softly. _"If the dragon did not hear us—"_

_ "It has heard us already," _the elf responded, utterly sure of that fact. The dragon's breathing had changed; it was fast paced and almost ragged. He sensed that it was weighing whether or not the two would be worth attacking; although he prayed that it would decide that they were not worth it, he doubted that it would rest in its cave, especially if it felt threatened.

_"Then why do we stand here still?" _Aragorn asked, no longer whispering. Legolas glanced at him warningly, but he was ignored. The ranger looked back towards the cave and took a step towards it. If, like Legolas had said, the dragon knew they were there, then there was no reason to speak as though it could not hear them.

_"Because only a fool would go looking for a fight he cannot win," _the elf snapped. The thought of his younger sister had gotten to him; he knew how much this particular ranger meant to her, having fought with both his father and grandfather, and he did not wish to break his promise by letting the man die. Besides this, Aragorn was one of his closest and most trusted friends; he would not willingly let him be killed.

The ranger managed to look offended. _"I am not looking for a fight," _he argued, spreading his hands wide. _"I only wish to let the creature know that we do mean it no harm."_

The elf prince smiled wryly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He could sense the dragon's growing unease. _"Why do I not believe you?"\_

_ "When have I ever lied to you, my friend?" _

Aragorn had a fair point. Never in their long years of knowing each other had either the elf or the man lied to one another. The elf nodded finally, growing worried. He could hear low growls coming from the rock, and could hear the shifting of gravel. Aragorn turned towards where the dragon hid and frowned. His hearing, although not quite as acute as that of the elves, was still much sharper than that of normal men. He could hear the dragon's growls without much difficulty, for they grew louder with each passing second. Legolas, who had sheathed his bow, grabbed his arm and pulled him behind a narrow ledge just as a hair-raising shriek tore through the air.

The two warriors held their breath as the thunderous growling continued. They did not expect to hear a voice, much less one that belonged to a young woman. She spoke in the common tongue, and her voice was both pained and scared. "I know you are there," she said. "Come out."

When neither of them moved, another shriek echoed across the mountain. Legolas recognize the frustration, and he realized with a chill that it was the dragon speaking. From his current position, he could see neither the dragon nor its shadow, so he had no idea how large it was. He also was somewhat confused. He had never heard of a female dragon before. Of course, they had to have existed, but there were no tales of them, no stories. The dragon spoke again, its—her—words accompanied by a sound like a boulder being crushed. "I said, come out!"

Legolas exchanged glanced with Aragorn. The dragon seemed to have no issue speaking to them—he had never heard of such a thing, but he supposed that they could speak in whatever language they wished—and also would surely have no issue tearing them apart, should it so choose. Legolas spoke first. _"Alright," _he said, keeping his voice calm even though he felt very anxious, both for Aragorn's life and his own. _"We are coming out."_

"Speak so that I can understand," the dragon replied testily.

Legolas blinked in surprise. So dragons did not understand all languages. _"Do nothing rash," _he told Aragorn softly. He switched to the common tongue. "I apologize," he said. "We are coming out."

Keeping his hands palm up in front of him so that the dragon might know that he meant it no harm, he stepped out, half expecting to meet his death in a flash of white-hot light. When no such end came, he turned around to face the dragon, Aragorn following. He stood quite still in surprise but kept his face impassive.

He had expected a large dragon, hulking with twisted muscle and sinew. He expected it to tower above he and Aragorn, its bright gold eyes flashing and razor sharp fangs bared in a feral smile. He expected its chest to glow with inner fire, its dark scales hard and unbreakable as the roots of a mountain.

One can understand, then, why he and Aragorn both stood, shocked, at the sight before them. A young dragon stood there, observing them with intelligent, albeit fearful, eyes. Legolas doubted that it was more than a year or two old. Its eyes were level with the elf's shoulder, and he found himself transfixed by them. They were the brightest, purest green he had seen in his many years, even having grown up in what now was known as the Mirkwood, but had once been called the Greenwood, known far and wide for its beauty. Wrenching his gaze away from that of the dragon, who seemed just as surprised to see them as they did to see it, he observed the rest of its body, trying to decide if the beast posed a substantial threat. He had the unnerving feeling that it was trying to figure out the same thing about them.

Its body, excluding its neck, was about six feet long, its tail a bit shorter. Unlike what he imagined most dragons would be like, this one was lean and lithe. He wondered if it was so because it was female or because it was a different race than others akin to Smaug the terrible. He also wondered if it was a hatchling; it was so much smaller than others he had met. The dragon's scales, unlike those of its kin, were bright like moonlight and shone like diamonds in the fading light of the sun. It was quite a beautiful creature, Legolas decided, although it might decide to kill them at a moment's notice.

The dragon shifted its weight, and he noticed that it winced, tucking its snowy white wing more firmly against its flank. He thought he caught sight of scarlet smeared across the membrane of the left wing, but it was hidden before he could take a closer look. As if reading some of his thoughts, the dragon turned its great head to face him, looking him in the eye. "I am a 'she'," the dragon said, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Not an 'it'."

Legolas nodded mutely. Aragorn made no move, and the elf was incredibly grateful for his friend's sudden show of wisdom; he had little to no doubt that the dragon would attack at the first hostile action.

"Dragon," the ranger began. The she-dragon whipped her head around to face him, moving forward until only a foot separated the two. Legolas froze, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. If the dragon attacked, he would be unable to protect his friend in time, and although she was clearly young, she still could tear their throats out if it pleased her.

"Do not call me that," she growled. She was much louder up close, Legolas numbly realized; his chest buzzed while she spoke.

"What do you wish to be called, then?" the ranger asked. A sad look entered the dragon's eyes, and she backed up until she stood several yards away. Aragorn looked extremely relieved at her actions and released the breath that he had been holding. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow.

The dragon hung her head, shifting the rocks under her claws. "I do not know," she replied, keeping her bright eyes fixed on the earth. "I do not think I have a name."

"How do you not have a name?" Legolas could not help but ask, moving slightly so as to stand in between she and his friend.

She sighed, a puff of smoke expelling from her mouth. "If I ever had one, it had been forgotten." She looked up, and Legolas noticed that although she still seemed wary of them, she no longer seemed hostile. At the very least, he no longer felt that she was going to rip his throat out in the immediate future. "Tell me, elf," she said, her eyes flickering between the two. "Why do you and this man travel through Ered Mithrim? There is no civilization save that of the dwarves for many leagues."

"We go to meet a company of rangers near the base of the Misty Mountains," Legolas said, recognizing that she seemed to be singling him out as the leader of the two. "Trust me when I say to you that we did not mean to disturb you—or frighten you—in any way."

She cocked her head to one side, and the motion was so human that Legolas had to do a double take. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Why should I trust you?" she questioned.

"Because I have never lied," he replied softly. She remained silent for a moment, holding his gaze. Her piercing eyes seemed to stare straight through him, and he wondered if dragons could read minds.

Suddenly her mouth opened, revealing several rows of sharp, white teeth. A rumbling growl came from her throat, along with an almost human noise, and her eyes drifted shut. Legolas flinched, but he quickly realized that she was laughing. In his fear, he had not recognized the sound for what it was, but now that he knew what she was doing, he felt much more at ease. Although _why _exactly she was laughing, he had no idea.

She ceased a few moments later and looked at him as if seeing him in a new light, her eyes dancing with mirth. "You are a very strange creature," she told him, and he had the strangest feeling that she was complimenting him. "As for your question, no. No dragons can read your mind." He started, suddenly more afraid than before. She moved closer to him, eyes wide, and stopped several feet away. Leaning forward, she touched his forehead with her nose, almost as if she were kissing it; blessing him. He had expected the scales to be hot and rough, but they were surprisingly cool and smooth, very alike to pearl. _"Do not fear,"_ she told him in his own tongue, backing up again. _"Emotions I can sense, but not thoughts. I was lucky enough to guess your question. I apologize for frightening you."_

Legolas looked at her in wonder, and Aragorn crossed his arms, looking at the dragon thoughtfully. _"How is it that you can speak in my tongue?" _the elf asked.

She laughed, and this time it was clear and sweet. He marveled again at how human she sounded. _"I cannot," _she answered. He felt that if she were of the race of elves or men, she would have been smiling. _"You are speaking in mine."_

"My lady," Aragorn interrupted, clearly at a loss of what to call her. She turned her emerald gaze on him, and he was relieved to see that it had softened considerably. "Do you plan on killing us?"

She looked surprised and somewhat miffed at the idea. "Of course not," she replied softly, settling down with a wince. "The elf is sincere in his words. You also do not plan to harm me. Why would I harm you in response?" Neither hunter had an answer for her.

"You are injured," Legolas suddenly spoke, startling the dragon slightly. She looked over at him, her face impassive. He was beginning to realize that, like elves, dragons expressed their emotions through their eyes rather than their faces. At least, that is how this particular dragon seemed to work. "How badly?"

She had curled up against the edge of the cliff, her wings tucked against her flanks and her tail wrapped around her tightly. "Why would you think that?" she asked.

"There is blood on your wing," Aragorn observed. The dragon pulled said wing closer to her, rubbing her nose against it softly, the way a bird might comb out its feathers.

"A group of men attacked me," she said softly, not looking at either of the warriors before her. "I barely managed to escape." She looked up, glancing between the two. "They were the first I have seen," she said softly as if speaking to herself. "I did nothing to harm them, but they attacked me." She spoke again, and this time Legolas recognized it as dragon-speech. He wondered if she had forgotten that he understood it. _"Mandos should have protected me."_

"Mandos?" Legolas repeated, floored. "The Vala?"

She eyed him angrily, and he realized that he was correct in his assumption that she had forgotten his knowledge of her language. "Yes," she muttered. "He is one of the few things I remember."

"What do you mean?" Legolas asked, sitting down beside her. On the ground, she towered above him, even though he rose above her standing up. Aragorn did not follow his example but remained on his feet, watching the lengthening shadows with concern.

"I cannot remember anything before I woke up her several months ago," the dragon explained. "Except for one name: Mandos. I know who he is, and I know where I am just as I remember my tongue and that of all free creatures, and just as I know what I am and what you both are. But I do not know who I am," she finished sadly.

Legolas said nothing, but his mind reeled. This dragon was no normal creature. Somehow she had been touched by one of the most powerful deities in Middle Earth, whether for good or for evil. The Vala had taken her memories, even her name, and had left her here. But why?

"Legolas," Aragorn spoke warningly. The elf turned to look at his friend. The stars were out, and the sun had set. Somehow the elf had fallen into his people's equivalent of sleep—although not for an extended period of time. The prince wondered how long his friend had been trying to attract his attention and stood, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. The dragon remained on the ground, watching them curiously.

_"What is wrong?"_ the elf asked, scanning the trees. Now that he was aware, he could detect the change in the woods around them. No crickets chirped, no owls hooted to each other from the branches. _"The woods are silent,"_ he said softly. _"Because of her?"_

He nodded to the dragon, but the ranger shook his head. "No." He drew his sword, and Legolas heard the dragon rise to her feet, snarling. "Because of _them_."


	2. Chapter 2

**I think you should know, I am very excited about this story. I've been meaning to write it down for a while and just recently have been about to pull my thoughts together. I have not abandoned the Greenwood Trilogy, however, I need to have the film at my disposal so that I can use the dialogue, so until it comes out on DVD, I can not write enough of the third book (at least not in the early chapters; later KilixAeyera chapters will be scattered throughout.) This also applies to the first book,** **because I am rewriting a good portion of it so there will be many, MANY more KilixAeyera moments/chapters?/pages and even some where I explain the relationship between Fili and Aeyera better. Read on! **

**Disclaimer (This applies for the rest of the book): I do not own ****The Lord of the Rings**** or ****The Hobbit**** or anything else written by the lovely J.R. . I do, however, own the so far unnamed dragon. **

Chapter 2:

Aragorn and Legolas stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the dragon, shielding her partially from view. It was a futile attempt, but the dragon noticed it all the same.

A group of men stepped forward out of the shadows. How they had gotten so close, the hunters did not know, especially since the tree line stood nearly half a league away. Aragorn waited for them to speak first, seeking out the leader of these men. The dragon snarled softly, speaking in the same tongue she had earlier; Legolas responded in kind, not moving his eyes from the nearing men. They were out of earshot, so Aragorn spoke over his shoulder to the dragon, keeping his eyes on the impending threat.

"I thought you said that no one lived around here," he commented softly, his lips barely moving.

She answered with a low growl, clearly displeased with his lack of trust in her. "I said that there is no civilization for many leagues save that of the dwarves, and that even they live many leagues away from here." She paused, an almost amused tone creeping into her voice, "Unless, of course, you speak of the dragons. They live in the Withered Heath, should you decide to visit."

He shook his head, smiling slightly. "No, I do not think that would be wise. I assume that most dragons would not have hesitated to attack us both with fire had we stumbled upon their nests."

She did not answer him at first but spoke to Legolas once more in her strange tongue. The ranger grew frustrated. "What does she say?" he asked, keeping his voice nearly at a whisper. There was no moon tonight, and the only light was that of the stars, which seemed dim but illuminated the dragoness. She shone like the moon.

"She says for us to leave her," Legolas answered, sounding stunned. "That the men haven't seen us, but are the same ones who attacked her. She says that they have been tracking her for three days."

Aragorn thought for a moment and decided against leaving her alone. For whatever reason, the dragoness had been touched by the Valar and set on his and Legolas's path. He refused to leave her to torture and death. "No," he said firmly. Legolas looked at him in surprise but did not refute him. "We will stay and defend you."

It was at that moment that the company of men reached the trio, fanning out around them in a loose half-circle. Each man held his weapons at his side; to Aragorn's immense relief, none of them carried bows that were not strapped tightly to their backs, thus useless. The leader stepped forward, most notable for the gold dragon skin cape wrapped around his shoulders. The dragoness hissed when she saw him, but did not move. Legolas seemed torn as to whether he should stand next to her or to Aragorn. He decided on standing in between them, his bow held loosely in his hands. The three of them ended up forming a triangle, both hunters standing where they could protect the dragoness easily.

The man began speaking in rough Westron, spreading his arms wide. He smiled, his teeth and the whites of his eyes flashing in his dark face. Both he and his men were covered in dark war paint. "Friends, you seem to have found our dragon." Aragorn nodded his head, acknowledging the man's words, but did not otherwise respond. The man plowed on, eyes fixed greedily on the dragoness, who glared back, her eyes glowing in the dim light. "We wish for you to hand it over. We have no quarrel with you, but I cannot allow you to take what is mine. It is marked, see?" He gestured to her injured wing, and she hissed again, razor sharp fangs gleaming. "It is _mine._"

"No free creature, whether the creature be elf, man, dwarf, halfling, dragon, or wizard, belongs to any man," Aragorn answered calmly, resting his hands on his hips. Only Legolas noticed that now the ranger had immediate access to his knife and sword. "As for the dragon being marked, you injured her." He caught a glimpse of her fiery eyes flashing over to him in thanks for referring to her as a female and not as an "it," and he inclined his head a bit towards her in response.

"Why are you concerned?" the man asked, all countenance of friendliness gone. He drew his sword. "It is a beast; albeit a shiny one whose skin will fetch a great price. Step aside, lest you and your companion be slain."

Aragorn stepped forward again, wondering for a moment why this dragon was so worth protecting. He decided that at this moment, it was he and Legolas in danger; the dragon happened to be there. He shifted, his hand wrapping around the pommel of his sword. This time the man did notice it, and his face hardened, eyes flashing. Legolas had an arrow nocked on the string already but had not pulled back yet; he awaited the ranger's signal. "You should not threaten us," Aragorn warned softly. "Especially when we have a dragon on our side."

The man opened his mouth and raised his sword, presumably to give the order to attack. Without warning, Aragorn struck out, slicing the man's throat. Before the man's body had struck the ground, he had moved on to the next, who was fumbling with his sword. Aragorn's swiftness awarded he and Legolas a few seconds head start when it came to defending themselves.

The dragoness did her best to defend the two men, slashing at them with her talons but not able to attack with her teeth. Aragorn wondered why she did not use fire to end the fight, but the thought quickly felt his mind. The soft 'twang' of Legolas's bowstring and the whistling of arrows sang through the air.

Despite their efforts, they were not quick enough in their efforts to dispose of all the men. One had gotten through, and had swung his sword at the dragon's already injured wing as she went to attack a man approaching Legolas from behind. She let out a hair-raising scream as it connected with the bone, grating against it and breaking it cleanly in two. The man had no time to celebrate, however, for the dragon in her rage twisted around and clamped her jaws over and around the man's head, tightening them. She shook him once like a dog with a rabbit might, snapping his neck. She dropped him, and by then the other men were slain or had fled.

The two warriors stepped over to her, staring down at the man she had killed. She had bitten nearly all the way through his neck, slicing through almost all the bone and tissue; his head remained attached by a few tattered pieces of skin.

She shuddered, her scales rustling, and led them wordlessly to a spot about fifty yards away, where the bodies were unable to be seen. She then lay down on her stomach, wrapping her tail around her, and whimpered. She was unable to move her wing; it had dragged along the ground as she walked and now remained on the ground beside her, as limp as a windless sail.

Neither the man nor the elf knew how to respond, but Legolas broke the silence first. "We cannot linger her," he said softly, resting his hand on her silver head. Her eyes were closed, and Aragorn thought he caught the shimmer of a tear, but he dismissed it. Dragons do not cry, he decided. "There is a cave nearby," he continued. "We can go there and help mend your wing. Is that alright?"

The dragon opened her eyes and lifted her head to look directly at the elf. To his immense surprise, she spoke directly into his mind, her eyes whirling with countless emotions. _"I'd never killed anyone before today,"_ her voice came as a whisper, as if she was afraid he would banish her from his mind if she spoke too loudly. _"And now I have murdered at least one man, and murdered many more. Do I deserve to be healed?"_

Legolas spoke aloud, having no idea how to respond to her in his mind. _"You were attacked, mellon nin," _he answered. _"They wanted to kill you. You deserve to live far more than they do."_

She lowered her head, looking ashamed. _"I will not fight you, but I think you are wrong." _In the common tongue, she spoke again. "I will go," she said, slowly and painstakingly rising to her feet. Even Aragorn, who had seen many terrible wounds, including the man whose head had nearly been torn off his body, grimaced at the state of her wing.

The bone was shattered, and could be seen through the bloody mess of skin and membrane. Blood poured from the wound and dripped onto the ground. It was red, like human blood; for some reason Aragorn thought it might have been black like that of a goblin or orc. The wing dragged along the ground; the dragon was unable to lift it at all.

They led her to a cave a quarter league away; they were afraid to go any farther lest she become too tired to stand. The came to the back, checking the floor for hinges that often are found in goblin caves. They found none. It was quite large, with a high ceiling and a small opening in the top through which they could see the stars.

Aragorn left and went about gathering branches for a fire while Legolas cleaned off the blood around the dragon's wound so he could see it clearly. The dragon held as still as she could, her head buried under her front paws. Her claws covered her eyes, and Legolas noted with some concern that she was shivering, much like a dog before a thunderstorm.

Aragorn returned a few minutes later and began arranging the wood in a neat pyramid, setting half of it aside for later. Once done, he sat back and looked over at the dragon. "Do you need me to light it?" he asked curiously. "Or are you able to do it?"

The dragoness peeked up at him from between her talons, observing him with one bright green eye. "I am what is called a Cold Drake," she replied between clenched teeth. "Although I can breathe smoke, I cannot breathe fire. I apologize for the inconvenience."

The ranger held his hands out to show her he meant no harm, and she covered her eye again. Aragorn removed two pieces of flint and struck them together until sparks flew from them and lit the leaves. In no time at all, a fire was crackling merrily, and a small pot sat perched above it, water boiling inside it. Aragorn moved to the side and began crushing Athelas into the water, breathing deeply as the steam spilled over the top of the container.

_"Aragorn," _Legolas began. The ranger glanced up at his friend, who looked very worried. _"I'll need you to distract her while I do this. I have no wish to be bitten on accident."_

Aragorn nodded and turned to the dragon, handing Legolas several wet cloths. "Legolas is going to set your wing and bandage it as best as he is able," he told her. "Will you speak to me while he does?"

She nodded, lifting her head from under her paws. Some blood still stained the scales around her mouth and throat, but Aragorn did his best to ignore it. Legolas began to rinse away the blood on the wound, and the ranger went and took a thick branch from the pile. He came back and set it in his lap. He settled down down and faced the dragoness. "I have a few questions," he began.

She stopped him. "As do I," she said softly, gasping in pain and flinching away from the elf.

"Would you like to speak first?" Aragorn asked. She shook her head, so he continued. "Alright. How old are you?"

"I do not know," she replied, keeping her bright eyes fixed on him. "I woke up several months ago with no memory. I know that I did not hatch recently; I would have a mother. I also think I am older than this because I know much of Middle Earth without having been taught since my awakening."

"It is just…" Aragorn paused, not sure how to voice his thought. "Many of your mannerisms are nearly… human. Your laugh, for example."

She tilted her head to one side, studying him. "How would you explain this?" she asked curiously.

"I do not know," he answered, frustrated. "It is very curious though. You say you have no memory of who you are, and yet you understand the workings of Middle Earth as easily as any other. You know of the Valar, and have been touched by one. The one, I might add, that is most feared."

She blinked, perplexed. "Feared?"

"You will not have to face it for centuries," he said, leaning back. "But most on this earth fear death. Elves do not, as much, because they are immortal and will find their way to the Undying Lands. However, it is said that the elves who die will remain trapped in the Halls of Mandos until the end of time, should they be slain."

"You have my thanks, Strider," Legolas said irritably, glancing up from the dragon's wing. "I appreciate your lovely view of my people's afterlife. I especially am fond of being reminded of what will happen should I fail to defend myself while we are hiding from mindless poachers!" He turned back to his work, and Aragorn sat back on his heels, cowed.

The dragoness spoke a minute later. "What of love?" she asked, changing the subject. "Do your people have that?"

The ranger smiled, thinking of the elvish woman who held his heart. Legolas glanced warningly at him, telling him that he would soon set the dragon's wing. "Yes, we do," he said. He leaned forward onto his knees, offering the branch to her.

She looked down at it, confused. "Why do you offer me this?"

"Bite down on it," he said. "Legolas is about to set your bone." Fear entered her eyes, but she accepted the wood, biting down on it, hard. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking. Aragorn nodded at the elf, who set his hands gently on her wing. One rested nearer to her back, the other on the opposite side of the break. "Alright, I'm going to help hold your wing down so you do not damage it more," he said, keeping his voice steady. He went and rested his hands next to where her wing met her shoulder. "Now!"

Right before he said 'now', Legolas gripped the bone tightly and wrenched it into place, pulling the two halves together as quickly and precisely as he could. Aragorn gripped her around the neck; it was the only way to keep her from hurting herself. She shrieked, trying to throw the ranger off. Her screams echoed through the cave, and Aragorn's heart twisted at the sound. He could hear sobs as well, and he wanted nothing more than to let go; he felt like it would help her. However, the two held fast. After a minute, she slumped to the ground, shaking and whimpering. She covered her snout with her paws, pushing the now splintered pieces of the branch away. Deep gouges had been made in the dirt by her claws, and smoke rose from her nostrils.

Wordlessly, Aragorn handed the soaked Athelas to the elf, who placed it over the wound before beginning to wrap it. Aragorn settled down next to her, resting his hand on her head. "You did well," he said. "The bone is set." When she didn't answer, he continued. "You'll need to keep the bandage and splint on for sixty days…" he trailed off, frowning. They could not very well leave her here alone; if the hunters came back, she would die. They also couldn't take her with them; she was too easy to spot.

Legolas began to chant softly over the wound, healing the gash as best he could. He nodded at Aragorn to continue speaking, but he didn't know what else to say. The dragoness spoke first. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

He looked at her curiously. "For what?"

Her eyes opened, and they glowed with a faint light even though they were clouded by pain. They fixed on him, and he found that he could not look away. Not by some spell, though; he was simply fascinated by her. "For saving my life."

All three of them were silent for a moment, the ranger staring at her in wonder. Legolas sat beside her and wrapped her wing, listening as Aragorn spoke softly to her, breaking the silence. "What are you?" Aragorn asked, watching the dragon closely. His voice held no small amount of awe. She looked up at him carefully, her bright orbs dimming with sadness. She lowered her head, veiling her eyes. The world suddenly seemed much darker with them hidden from view. "I do not know," she replied sadly. "Perhaps I never did." She scratched at the earth with one of her talons, carving strange runes into the dirt. "I do not even have a name," she whispered.

Legolas spoke, looking over at Aragorn with a bright smile. "Telumë," he said.

She raised her head, puzzled, and Aragorn smiled softly. "It is your name," Aragorn said. "If you accept it."

Her eyes lit up, and the ranger felt that if she had been human, she would have been grinning ear to ear. "Telumë," she repeated, testing it out. She laughed suddenly, overjoyed. "I have a name! Telumë!"

Legolas laughed as well. "It is a strong name," he told her, eyes lighting up as she twisted her head around to look at him. "Bear it well."

She blinked. "What does it mean?"

"Warrior of the Sky," he said softly. "It is an elvish name, and a strong one at that. Consider yourself fortunate, for it is rare that we name others by our own names."

"Thank you." She gazed at him fondly and then spoke six words into his mind, her voice bright and lovely. The six words which, incidentally, changed both Legolas's and Aragorn's lives forever. _"I am forever in your debt."_

** I know you didn't read the author's note, so I added this: I will do my best to update this story at least once a week, probably at the end/middle of it depending on Praise Team, ACT, and school (Thesis is **_**terrible**_**). I hope you enjoy! If you have any comments or catch any grammar mistakes, let me know! **

**P.S.: Disclaimer: Dragon=** **Telumë**


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: there is considerable gore in a couple of the later scenes in this chapter. It does not last long, but it is considerably strong—I would not recommend anyone under 12 reading it. Please use discression. Chapter four will be up within the week.**

Chapter 3:

The next several days passed by agonizingly slowly for the three of them. Legolas and Aragorn had decided to wait a few of days with Telumë to make sure her wing was mending correctly. Miraculously, it seemed to be healing twice as fast as a human's bone might, but it still would be a month before she could fly again.

This left the two hunters with a problem.

Telumë had sworn an oath to protect them, and both doubted that she would go back on her word. They worried for her, for although she was a dragon, she was both small and injured, and at the moment, flightless. They argued with her, trying to persuade her to stay behind, but she adamantly refused. They had both saved and spared her life, she told them, and had given her a name. Therefore, she was bound to them until she decided her debt had been paid. Which, Legolas knew from her words in his mind, would be _never_.

Aragorn awoke the morning of the fourth day feeling refreshed. He knew in his heart that he and Legolas, whatever the situation, would be leaving that day. They had but two weeks to find and meet up the Dúnedain before making their way to Mirkwood. Afterwards, they would travel East to the Lonely Mountain.

Aragorn knew that Legolas wished to visit his sister's companions. For it was Legolas's sister, the Lady Aeyera, who had travelled with the dwarf Prince Thorin Oakenshield and his company to reclaim the dwarf kingdom of Erebor some fifty years before. Aragorn had never had the pleasure of meeting her, but he knew that she had been a sort of sister-in-arms to the Dúnedain before he was born. He had learned from the other rangers that she had fought with them until two years before what now was known in the West as the Battle of the Five Armies, where she fought bravely alongside her kin, the men of Esgaroth, and the Elves of Mirkwood.

He sighed. She was an exile, much like him. They were extraordinarily alike, actually. Exiled by their people, living with a different race, hiding from who they really were. He smiled ruefully, considering the parallels and glaring differences in their lives: she had chosen exile because she would not stand for injustice, while he had chosen it because was afraid of his destiny, afraid of what might come about should he fail to earn the title of King. She had gone and lived alongside the rangers after two decades of unspeakable torment, accepted by them for her skill with weapons and her ability to show mercy and justice. He had lived with the elves, learning their ways of both the mind and the body, fighting and reading.

He sighed again, albeit sadly, when he realized that they had in a sense traded lives.

Finally, they had hidden who they were; the Lady because she was ashamed and proud, too proud to allow her title and her father's name to define her, too ashamed to allow others to judge he based on her father's actions. He had hidden himself because he was afraid of being forced to take up the sword Narsil, afraid of being a leader.

_"Aragorn."_ Legolas had moved to stand beside him. Telumë was curled up several yards away, her wings covering her like blankets. _ "Have you decided?" _he asked softly. Aragorn knew that Legolas did not wish to leave the dragon behind, and he thought he might know why. He had left his sister so many years before. He had been unable to save her. Now he had a chance to save another.

The ranger shook his head. _"No. I know you want to save her, but—"_

_ "They have the same eyes," _the elf said softly, looking over at the sleeping dragon sadly.

Aragorn started. _"What?"_

_ "Telumë and Aeyera," _Legolas explained, glancing back at him. _"I had been thinking that she looked familiar, and I realized why last night; she and my sister have the same eyes."_

Aragorn glanced over at her. He hadn't noticed it, but he supposed the elf was right. Also, something else struck him, and he looked up at the elf in alarm. _"She has human eyes," _he said, standing. The elf frowned. _"I mean, they are larger, and they give light, but there is no doubt that they are not the eyes of a Drake."_

Legolas nodded slowly in agreement. _"You are right. What do you suppose we do? I do not wish to leave her, whether her eyes are human or not."_

Aragorn sighed as well, running a hand through his hair. After his realization about Legolas's ulterior motives and Legolas's own proclamation concerning his sister's eyes, he knew that it would be near impossible to convince the elf to leave Telumë behind. _"I know. Let me ask her once more, and her decision will determine our course."_

The elf nodded, pleased, and they waited for her to wake, stoking the fire as they did so.

_"I will come with you," _she spoke in Legolas's mind before he had realized she was awake. He glanced over at her to see her opening her eyes and stretching her limbs, getting rid of the stiffness that comes with sleeping on rock. She blinked sleepily, shuddering. Her scales fluttered, lifting slightly before settling down in their normal spots. "I am coming with you," she said out loud, lifting her head in a challenge.

"I know," Aragorn answered. "I know of your promise, and of your heart. I doubt that there is any force in Middle Earth that could keep you away after you swore such an oath, and it would be folly to try and send you away. Besides," he added. "Legolas seems to have grown quite fond of you."

She looked pleased and relieved. When she spoke, her voice was warm and joyful, and she might ever have been smiling. She bowed her head before lifting it and looking the ranger in the eye. "You have my thanks," she said gently. "I have grown quite fond of him as well."

Legolas stepped forward and placed a hand on her neck. She had to look up at him to meet his gaze. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. Aragorn was surprise; the elf was the one who had been pushing for her to come in the first place.

She stared at him solemnly, and he nodded after a moment. "Very well," he said. He turned to the ranger. "We should begin. We have lost much time here and will not meet the Dúnedain in time if we do not hurry."

Aragorn picked up his pack and shouldered it. He had already put out the fire, but was unable to clear away the traces of their presence. There was no way to hide the runes and gouges in the stone floor of the cave made by Telumë, so he didn't bother doing anything other than filling in some of the strange letters on the floor.

Legolas led the way to the front of the cave, the other two following quickly. "The bodies were removed two days past," he told them softly. "It is unclear whether the remainder of the men will come after us."

"Let us hope that we will be far away by that time," Aragorn said, leading them forward. He headed towards the woods and glanced at the small dragon behind him. "Dragons have an acute sense of smell," he commented. "Can you tell if any other are near?"

She lifted her muzzle into the air, sniffing it. "No one," she told him. "Except for several deer nearly half a league away. I still can smell the men's blood," she said softly, looking away. She shuddered, her scales ruffling so that the light glinted off them like diamonds. "So much blood."

"It was not your fault." Legolas moved back to walk beside her as they entered the forest. It was quite old; not nearly as old as Fangorn, but still old enough to warrant respect from the wood-elf. These woods bordered the Greenwood for many leagues and would provide shelter for the three companions on their journey.

"Wasn't it?" she asked, her voice sorrowful. "If you had not tried to protect me, those men would not have died. If I had not spoken to you, perhaps you would not have decided to help me, and—"

"Our decisions are our own," Aragorn interrupted gently, his stern tone ending her flow of words. "And neither I nor Legolas regret them."

The trio continued walking, their footsteps the only non-natural sound in the woods. Birds sang, small creatures scampered along the branches, and a cool wind whispered through the trees. Telumë remained silent, eyes downcast.

The elf felt concerned for her. Aragorn had been right, in a sense—Legolas desperately wanted to help Telumë. Not only because of the strange relation with his sister, but because of how different she was from other dragons; how humanlike she seemed. No dragon was so good an actor as to allow herself to become wounded and humiliated in exchange for a meal; Legolas wasn't even sure if dragons ate men, let alone elves.

_"None of this was your fault," _he told her softly in her own tongue.

_"Perhaps you do not see it," _she replied, lifting her eyes to meet his. It truly was uncanny how similar this dragon and his sister seemed; one of the reasons he felt so comfortable around her was because of how alike the two were. He found himself hoping that he two could have met, but he banished the thought. It was impossible.

_"Then show me," _he answered.

She sighed. _"I cannot," _she said, _"For I do not understand it all myself. I have a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that something is wrong… that somehow I am not where I should be."_

_ "How do you mean?" _Legolas asked curiously.

"Do either of you plan on speaking in a language I can understand?" Aragorn asked, glancing back at the two of them, a hint of an entertained smile upon his lips. "It is terribly uninteresting to walk alone and have no one to speak with."

Telumë answered first. "Something is wrong." Aragorn instantly froze, his hand flying to the handle of his sword. "No, there is no one around," she told him, eyeing him in amusement. "Put away your sword."

He did so reluctantly and began walking again. "Do not startle me so, Telumë," he told her.

"I apologize," she replied. "But something is wrong. Not with our surroundings, but with my mind." Legolas very nearly walked into the nearest tree. Her words were so similar to those of his sister, before the darkness plaguing her had been banished by their mother's spirit. He forced himself to pay attention as she continued. "I have a feeling that there is something I should remember, but cannot." She growled in frustration. "It is right _there_!" she exclaimed. "Right along with my name. I _must _remember it!"

"Some things are hidden from us for a reason," Legolas told her softly.

She hummed, eyes darkening. "Perhaps," she murmured. Something ahead caught her attention and she moved ahead quickly, easily outpacing her companions. Something was wrong, she felt it; she just could not recall what.

"Telumë!" Both the man and the elf called her name, but she ignored them, galloping through the trees. Her heart raced, and apprehension twisted his insides into knots.

The scent of blood reached her nose. She moved faster, seeing a break in the trees. The sunlight shone through the branches, hiding whatever lay on the other side. The scent of rot grew stronger, as did the smell of smoke. As she burst through the trees, she threw her forepaw back and caught a hold of a nearby trunk, barely preventing herself from falling from the cliff before her. She blinked up at the sunlight, waiting for whatever was below her to become clear. When it did, she recoiled in horror, cowering back into the trees in fear.

Below her stood what was left of a village, one of the homes of the Woodmen. It stood in shambles. The houses were charred, the animals slaughtered in the fields. In some cases, they were torn open, their bowels spilled out over the ground. Flies swarmed around them. Worst were the people. Bodies were everywhere, some even at the foot of the cliff she now stood on. Men, women, children; mowed down where they stood. The ground was red. It had been several days, she knew from the smell, and from the looks of it there had been no survivors.

She let out an agonized cry, standing up on her hind legs and shrieking up at the sky. Somehow this sight pained her like nothing she could ever have remembered feeling before. A lone shred of a memory—was it hers? —brushed her mind.

_"'No, no—' a girl was saying. A boy—a young man, rather—lay on the ground. She shook him frantically, her voice choked with sobs. His head lolled from side to side. Blood coated the right side of his face; it soaked the ground, spilling from a gash in his throat. His eyes were half open, rolled back in his head so only the whites showed. 'I'll kill you!' she screamed to her brother's attackers, cradling her brother's head in her lap. The cowards who had done this ran; the men of her village pursued them. Her brother's breathing was ragged; he choked on his own blood. 'I'll find a way to bring you back,' she whispered, brushing his hair back with her fingertips. They came away sticky with blood, and she nearly retched. The smell of blood and smoke was so strong... 'I promise.'_

_ 'No,' he choked. His hand tightened around hers for a moment, then let go. He breathed out one final word before he left. 'No.' _

_ 'No—' Tears made their way down her cheeks and dripped onto his face, clearing away some of the blood. 'No! Don't go,' she whimpered. 'Don't leave me—' he was gone. Her throat burned as a tidal wave of fury and hatred unlike anything she had ever felt lifted her off her feet. 'Do you hear me?!' her voice cracked as she stood, shrieking at them with all the breath in her lungs. 'I'll kill you for what you did! I'll kill you!'_

_ One of the murderers looked back, and—"_

Telumë staggered back, breathing heavily. Tears rolled down her snout and peppered the ground. Tiny wisps of steam rose up from where they landed. Legolas and Aragorn burst out of the forest behind her and skidded to a halt, staring in revulsion at the carnage below them.

"What happened here?" Aragorn murmured, eyes wide. His face was ashen. Legolas said nothing but took everything in silently, his blue eyes clouded over in grief.

She shook her head, unable to speak and unable to tear her eyes from the hellish nightmare below. She replayed the memory over and over in her head; it wasn't fading, to her surprise. Who was the boy? Her brother? That was impossible, the children were human—but how could she have someone else's memory? The face though… it had filled her with such rage, such white-hot hatred; she had torn apart the tree beside her with her claws. She knew that face. It was the face of the man who had broken her wing; the one whose neck she had severed with her teeth.

"We can not make it down there," Aragorn said sorrowfully. "The hour grows late, and it would take days to find the path into the valley. My people depart with or without us in a fortnight; we must go."

"We cannot leave them!" Telumë finally was able to tear her gaze from the body of a tiny girl and turned to the ranger, shocked. "We cannot leave them for the crows and buzzards, we must bury them, or—"

"Telumë," Legolas said softly. She turned to face him, green eyes wide and horrified. "We must go."

"But—"

Aragorn cut her off. "Now."

Her eyes narrowed as her resolve hardened. "No. If I go alone, I will find you again. I promise." She turned and faced the cliff. It was no more than a hundred feet high, and she crouched down like a cat ready to pounce. She spoke without looking back, feeling the shock radiating from both of them. Her tail swished back and forth, keeping her balanced. "I will do it alone if I must, but I will not allow them to remain trapped in this world without a chance of making it to the next." She frowned; where had those words come from?

It did not matter, she decided. She took a deep breath and sprang forward, feeling the air on her scales for a moment before she twisted around and slammed against the rock face, digging her talons into the stone and sliding to a halt. She climbed down in this way, not checking to see if the two were behind her. When she reached the ground, she immediately felt afraid and sick.

She forced herself to go up to the nearest group of people. She wanted nothing more than to scream and tear apart whoever had done this limb from limb. There was a woman on the ground, and two children lay beside her. The children were face down, and the cracks in the stone that branched away from them were filled with their lifeblood. Their small, white limbs were bent at horrible angles, as if broken.

If that weren't terrible enough, the mother, who was face up, had been pregnant. _Had been_. It appeared that she had been torn open, because her lower abdomen was soaked with blood, and she skin and innards were in tatters. A spear protruded from her stomach, and her baby— Telumë choked, stepping backwards. Her baby was impaled on the top of the spear. It was probably only a few weeks away from being ready to have been born. Its skin was purple now, and it was clear that crows had ravaged both it—she—and her family. _She._

The dragon turned and began digging frantically, working the softer dirt until she had made a hole several feet deep and wide. She made her way to the family and slowly began moving the two younger children to the grave, trying not to look at their faces. She laid them gently in the hole, and then returned to the mother and her child.

She didn't know how to remove the baby without hurting it, and she didn't want it to be laid to rest like this—she cried out in frustration and pain, stalking back and forth in front of the mother.

"Let me," Legolas's voice reached her ears. She lifted her eyes to see the blonde elf step forward and remove the babe carefully from the spearhead. Using an extra blanket from his pack, he wrapped the child and cradled her in his arms, his face crestfallen. He murmured to the baby in words Telumë did not know, so she turned and removed the spear from the mother with her teeth, being careful not to harm the woman's body. She did not know how the two had managed to reach the ground, but she did not care anymore. Who would do such a horrible thing to a mother—and children?

Aragorn stepped up beside her and lifted the woman into his arms. "I will carry her," he said softly. His face was drawn and strained as if he had just walked through a war zone. He had, in a way. The ranger stepped over to the grave and set the woman inside gently.

Telumë moved over to Legolas and pressed her nose gently to the babe's forehead. If not for her discolored skin, she could have been sleeping. "She deserves a name," Telumë croaked, looking up at the elf.

"Lotsë," he said softly, looking down at the child. Tears rolled down his cheeks unashamedly. "Little Flower."

Telumë nodded, stepping back as the elf placed the child in her mother's arms. "It is a beautiful name," she whispered. Without another word, the three companions filled in the grave, then moved on to the others. By the time night fell, all the villagers had been buried. There had been two other pregnant women in the village, one with twins. All had met the same end as the first, and all the children had been given their own names.

The stars were coming out when they finally left the village and entered the forest again. Telumë had not spoken a single word since the first burial, and all three seemed to be in some state of horror. They broke apart and made camp an hour later, huddling together unconsciously. None of them wanted to be alone. Telumë stayed awake long into the night, keeping guard over her companions, tears falling from her eyes to the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

At some point during the night, Legolas realized that Telumë was not asleep. Both he and Aragorn rested against her warm sides, none of them thinking it wise to light a fire so close to the mountains. The stars shone overhead. The constellation the Dwarves called Durin's Crown hung to the north, and the moonlight filtered through the eaves above their heads.

The dragon's tail was curled around the feet of the man and elf, coming to an end beside her right forepaw. She lay with her left paw crossed to rest on her right, and her head was held high. The stars shone off her scales, and she could have been made of marble if not for her glimmering green eyes, which glowed with intelligence and sorrow. Steam rose up from her nostrils as she sighed.

_"You should be resting, young prince,"_ the dragoness told him softly, speaking into his mind so as to not wake Aragorn. She did not move her gaze from the hills to the north.

He started, surprised; she hadn't had to look in his direction to know that he was awake. Elves did not sleep but for a few exceptions—his sister being one of the few who, on occasion, did—but instead entered a sort of dream-like state. Their bodies remained the same; however, Telumë must have realized that he was conscious. He marveled at her skills at perception and once again wondered at her, drawing one knee to his chest and slinging his arm over it. Why was she so different from the tales of dragons he had heard all his long years? They all had told of the great firedrakes that would tear and destroy; Smaug himself was a powerful example of this. However, Telumë seemed to be gentle and kind, at least towards himself and Aragorn. He thought of how heartbroken she had appeared the night before as she struggled to bury the families and unborn children that had been slaughtered.

He remembered the third and final instance in which the dragon had approached the defiled mother. Her babies—twins—had been torn apart, their body parts scattered around their mother. He recalled how Telumë had approached and then leapt back as if burned, keening in grief. She had buried the babies together, their mother below them. He shuddered at the memory.

Suddenly the other piece of her statement registered in his mind, and he shifted against her side. _"Why do you call me 'prince'?"_ he asked. She swung her head around until their faces were less than a foot away. Her bright eyes glowed, and a puff of warm breath blew the stray hairs back from the elf's face. He held his breath without realizing it, blue eyes wide.

_"Because that is what you are, are you not?" _She blinked slowly, letting out another puff of breath. Her uninjured wing stretched out over her head before settling back against the ridges along her spine. Her left wing remained pressed against her side. _ "You carry yourself like a prince, unlike your companion. He is strange," s_he commented, turning her emerald gaze on the sleeping ranger. Her scaly eyebrows furrowed together, and she tilted her head slightly. _"For although he does not carry himself in the same manner you do, he still shines with light. I do not doubt that he comes from the line of kings as well. A different line, of course," _she added, turning her eyes back onto the elf. _"But a king all the same."_

The elf nodded mutely, struggling to decide whether or not her perception was a blessing or a curse.Aragorn was indeed descended from the Númenóreans, the line of the kings of Gondor descended from Elendil.

_"You are surprised," _her young voice echoed in his head as she settled her head upon her arms. She lifted her eyes to look at him. The light that shone from them was not simply in his imagination, he decided. It illuminated the blades of grass around them, giving them a needle-like appearance. _"It was a secret, wasn't it?"_

He glanced at his friend. The ranger's chin rested upon his chest, and his arms were crossed over his torso, one hand resting on the hilt of his dagger even in sleep. _"Yes," _he told her. _"It would be dangerous for his true name to be revealed. Most know him as Strider, not Aragorn. That name is dangerous outside of our company and that of the Dúnedain."_

_ "I understand," _she said, glancing at the ranger again. She sighed, shuddering. Legolas flinched at the peculiar feeling of her scales fluttering under him, and he leaned forward until they were settled.

_"Something troubles you," _he decided, watching the bothered look in her eyes. The crickets around them chirped, singing their songs to one another.An owl hooted and swooped overhead. The dragon watched with sad eyes, her own wings shaking slightly. _"You will be able to fly soon enough," _he told her softly, placing a pale hand on her flank.

_"I know," _she answered, her voice a little higher than a whisper in his mind. _"That is not what troubles me. I do not understand why I do not remember anything."_

_ "Perhaps you hit your head?" _Legolas suggested.

She snorted in laughter, a puff of steam rising up into the air. Aragorn shifted against her side, moving so his cheek was pressed against it. She regarded him fondly as she spoke. _"I very much doubt that a stone could harm me, Legolas. My scales, though not as strong as they will become, can still withstand something so insignificant as a pebble." _Her eyes clouded and she shuddered again, her scales rustling like leaves caught in a summer wind. _"A thought entered my mind when I happened upon the first family. I do not know if it was a dream or a memory or even a memory of a dream…" _she whimpered, sighing. Legolas stroked the scales along her neck, and she relaxed slightly but still looked ahead instead of at him. He waited patiently for her to begin. _"It was of a girl. She held her brother's body in her arms and was screaming at his murderers and begging him to stay with her. Right before he died, she promised to bring him back." _She paused. _"Is that possible? To bring someone back from the dead?"_

Legolas blinked, taken aback. To bring someone back from death… he wasn't sure if it was possible, let alone probable. If anyone could, it would be Mandos, the Vala, but…

A horrible thought entered his mind, but he kept it to himself. _"I do not know," _he told her instead. _"But I doubt it. If it could be done, it would have been done long ago." _She nodded, but the elf couldn't tell if she was satisfied by his answer or not. _"Sleep now," _he chided gently, laying his hand in the grass beside his hip. _"If another one of these dreams comes, tell me. I will take watch for a while."_

She blinked tiredly in agreement and settled down in the grass, curling her tail and neck around to surround her companions. Within minutes her breathing had evened out, her eyes closed. The elf laid his head back to rest against the ridges of her back and lifted his face up to face the stars, keen ears listening for any sounds disrupting the stillness of the night.

Meanwhile, Telumë was being plagued by a swirl of dreams and nightmares, both twisting together to form a writing mass of confusion.

_ "Once again Telumë was stuck in a memory, but this time she found herself watching it instead of experiencing it. An older woman and a young girl stood before her in a wooden home. The girl had tan skin and long, dark hair. Her eyes were closed, and her arched eyebrows were furrowed. The scattered freckles on her cheeks were nearly hidden by the flush across them._

_ The woman could have once been beautiful, but time had worn her down to a shell of what she had once been. Her eyes were brown flecked with gold, and her white hair stood out in sharp contrast to her tanned, leathery skin. Her shoulders were hunched as if she held a great burden, and she looked upon the girl before her with fondness and pity._

_ 'He's gone.'_

_ The girl opened her eyes and stared defiantly at the woman before her. Her eyes, which seemed nearly to glow in the half-light, were bright green. They were narrowed nearly to slits, though, and were rimmed with red and puffy from crying. 'There has to be a way,' the girl growled, her voice catching in her throat. 'There has to be a way to bring him back.'_

_ 'None but the Valar can cheat death, child—' the old woman tried to speak, but the angered girl cut her off. Telumë realized that the girl was the same one who had lost her brother in a raid. The same girl who had sworn revenge on the man she herself had killed._

_ 'Then I will go to the Valar and demand them to bring him back!'_

_ The old woman started and stared at the girl in horror as if she had uttered the language of Mordor. As the girl turned to exit the home, the old woman lashed out and seized the girl's wrist, jerking her back. 'Think, girl,' the woman barked, shaking her slightly. 'What you ask is impossible.'_

_ The girl angrily pulled away from the woman's iron grip, shattered eyes sparkling with unshed tears. 'I thank you for your hospitality,' she said stiffly, shouldering her pack. The dragon noticed that she wore a tunic and breeches like a man with leather boots that reached nearly to her knees. A hunting knife was strapped to her side, and a quiver rested on her back, bow tied loosely to the side. She turned, braid coming to rest on her right shoulder, and glanced up, straight into Telumë's eyes."_

Her eyes snapped open and she jerked her head up, leaping to her feet. Aragorn awoke with a stifled shout as he fell backwards, but Legolas already was on his feet. He watched the dragon in concern. She shuddered and walked in a circle, shaking. Another memory… the girl seemed so familiar, but how?

"Telumë," Legolas said softly, breaking her out of her thoughts. The sky was just beginning to lighten, and dew soaked the grass and clothing of her companions. "The dawn comes swiftly, we must journey on." She nodded, sitting down as they broke camp, packing their things away.

When they finished, she rose and followed after the elf, breathing in the fresh air of a new day. Birds began to awaken as the sun peeked over the horizon, dousing the land in warm silvery light. The feathered creatures began singing to one another happily as squirrels, awakened by the racket, chased each other around tree trunks, pausing for a moment to observe the visitors before continuing in their game. Aragorn followed the two ethereal beings, rubbing the back of his head irritably.

They stopped only once to eat and refill their water skins. Telumë did not eat; like most dragons, she could go for a long time without food. Also, even if she had been hungry, she doubted she would have been able to eat. The swift of memories from the previous day raced around in her mind. Why was she seeing these flashes? What did they mean? Who was the girl?

"The rangers have not heard from your sister in many a year," Aragorn was saying to Legolas. They skirted a clearing and reentered the woods, treading carefully around the knarred roots crisscrossing their path. "They will want to hear how she has been. What will you tell them?"

The elf sighed, his face pained. He continued walking, not bothering to face his friend. Telumë nudged him gently with her muzzle, and he placed his hand on her crown. "What I must."

"They will want to see her," the ranger said after a moment. He sensed the wall rising around the elf but plowed on anyway. "How will you tell them that—"

"I do not know, _Elessar,_" the elf prince snapped. His bright eyes were filled with such sadness that the dragon cried out softly in response, feeling his pain as if it were her own. What had happened to his sister to bring him such grief? "You are their chieftain. If you care so much, keep their questions at bay."

"What was her name?" Telumë asked. The elf kept his gaze straight ahead.

"Aeyera," he replied, a small smile gracing his lips. "She is also called _Celebhiril _and _Tindómiel. _The Grey Wizard took a particular interest in her. She was much younger than I, but much braver. She walked with the Dúnedain and found alongside men, elves, dwarves, and eagles. She was the strongest of any I have met, withstanding torture and darkness and loss until the end."

"The end?" Telumë repeated hesitantly. The way they had spoken of her, one as if she lived and the other as if she had passed… what had happened? The feeling of heartbreak hit her as the face of the girl's brother passed before her eyes. She shook her head as a cold feeling passed over her.

Neither of her companions seemed to notice. Legolas was trapped in his own thoughts, and Aragorn listened, enraptured. A shadow passed over the elf's face as he turned away to face the woods to the south. "Aye. Until the end. I hope to see her again someday, but I know not if our paths will cross again."

Telumë nodded, not daring to speak again. It was clearly a sore subject for the elf, and she had no wish to cause him more pain. From then on, she walked in silence, pondering his words. She felt that she knew loss, but knew not where. Perhaps she had the same bond with the girl as she did with Legolas? Maybe the girl had been forgotten like everything else. Perhaps she felt the girl's emotions like she did the elf's—that was it, she decided. Nothing made sense.

Aragorn watched his friend with sad eyes. He noticed how his shoulders had slumped, how his face had fallen. His bright eyes had dimmed, and his voice had been filled with despair. He placed his hand on the elf's shoulder but said nothing, simply allowing his friend to know that he wasn't alone.

He had never faced a loss like his friend; he couldn't imagine what it had felt like to let his sister go. He had done the right thing; she had been happy, but he had been left behind. He himself had lost both his parents at a young age; he could not remember his father and could barely recall an image of his mother to mind.

The elf had lived many lives of men and had lost his mother and sister; he wondered how he could stand being here alone. _'Of course,'_ Aragorn chided himself, _'he's not alone. Not really.' _The ranger watched the dragon, how she kept up with the two of them and comforted the elf by her silence. He trusted her, surprisingly. If he had any doubts before, they had been buried with the village the day before. No bloodthirsty beast would have wailed and buried the dead as she had done.

What are you? He asked silently, watching as her tail moved back and forth in time with her steps, helping her balance. She glanced over at him, brows furrowed, but said nothing. Aragorn wondered if she had heard his thoughts but decided against it. She and Legolas seemed to have a special bond of sorts, both understanding her language and speaking without words. He sighed. It did not matter. She would stay with them until they found the Dúnedain, and then they would see if she would go her own way. The ranger had no wish for her to be harmed.

The trio made their way through the forest side by side, each pondering his or her own thoughts, not realizing that their paths and minds had been so intertwined.

**In case you were wondering, this is sort of a sequel to the Greenwood Trilogy. Sort of. There are many mentions of Aeyera, although her fate will not be spelled out completely until the original trilogy is complete. If you haven't read it, I would recommend it so you're not any more confused than you probably already are. Once again, I'll try and publish one chapter a week: I'm just really busy right now. Until next week!**


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days passed in blissful peace. The company came upon no more villages, human or otherwise, and did not happen upon dangerous creatures. Although, Legolas could have sworn he heard Telumë speaking to someone one night, someone who replied in a deep, slow voice and moved away with creaking footsteps. The next morning, there were no signs of tracks: other than root-like imprints on the dirt. When questioned, the dragon had bobbed her head in what seemed to be the dragonish way of shrugging and had said nothing, either through her mind or her mouth.

On the sixth day after their run-in with the human village, while Telumë was off hunting, Aragorn seized his first opportunity to speak to Legolas about the dragon. Several days before he had had the feeling that she had heard his thoughts when he had wondered 'what are you?' Although she had promised she would never read his mind—indeed, she had said that it was impossible, although she and Legolas still could speak to one another—he still had his doubts. _"Legolas," _he said quickly, glancing around to make sure Telumë was not coming back. _"I must ask you something."_

_ "Anything, my friend," _he answered, looking over in confusion. His bright eyes seemed darkened as of late, and the ranger hoped it had nothing to do with their third companion.

_"Do you trust her?" _he asked. The elf looked up in surprise. _"Telumë," _Aragorn clarified.

Legolas nodded, eyeing his friend with curiosity. _"With my life. Why?"_

Aragorn hesitated for a brief moment but decided to speak, plowing forward. _"Because she—"_

Suddenly a great crashing on their left startled them both, effectively cutting off their conversation. "What—"

A piercing shriek rang out, echoing through the trees. Both the man and the elf doubled over, pressing their palms against their ears to block out the noise. It was horrible: worse than any sound either of them had ever heard before. The shriek was cut off by a dragon's roar, and the two of them looked up at each other for a fraction of a second before darting towards the sound, unsheathing their weapons as they went.

Legolas always managed to stay a few paces ahead of the ranger, although his progress was somewhat impeded by the thick woods. All the while, the air rang shrill with shrieks and screams from both the dragon and the unknown creature. When they finally made it to the source of the noise, they nearly dropped their weapons in shock. They had emerged onto the edge of the forest and now stood looking out over an enormous plane. What captured their attention, however, were the two beasts tearing each other apart. One was obviously Telumë. She was less than a quarter the size of the other and yet seemed to be holding her own fairly well.

The other was a creature of nightmares. It was huge and sleek with silver-grey skin like that of an eel. It had great wings, though they now were tattered by work of the dragon's teeth, and a long break, from which the horrible sound emanated. Its eyes were black and empty as death, and terror seemed to radiate from it, clearly intending to paralyze those whom it fought.

Legolas unsheathed his bow and placed an arrow on the string, waiting for a break in the fight. Telumë did not seem to notice they were there, although she fought with a greater ferocity than before. Her green eyes had narrowed to slits, and—Aragorn blinked in surprise. Was he imagining it, or were there small tongues of fire flickering in her maw?

The grey beast jabbed at her with its beak, knocking her aside, and she landed some ways away, skidding to a halt and leaving a deep furrow of tilled earth in her wake. She laid still, sides heaving, and looked around, dazed and confused.

Aragorn's eyes locked with hers, however, and all trace of weariness left her instantly. Her green eyes, which had been unfocused and tired a moment before, hardened in resolve. The great beast had been bearing down on her, but she threw herself upwards and reared back, standing on her rear legs and spreading her wings—both injured and well—to their full extent. She opened wide her mouth and howled, roaring forth an inferno of golden flames. Both the man and elf leapt back into the trees, astounded. She rushed forward and attacked the beast, surrounded by a firestorm of her own invention. The beast was shrieking and thrashing, trying to escape, but she dug her talons into its flesh and held on, finally ceasing the onslaught of fire and instead clamping her razor sharp teeth on its neck. Once the flames and smoke cleared, it became clear that the beast was tiring quickly. Its skin—though not damaged nearly as much as that of a normal creature's would have been (that is to say, vaporized)—was blistered and bloody. Its eyes had been gouged out, and its wings torn to shreds. Black blood oozed from a hundred wounds, and its shriek grew weaker and weaker, although it continued to fight as hard as it could to throw off the young, white dragon astride it. Legolas had frozen and stood with his bow pulled taut, not sure whether to fire or not. Aragorn placed his hand on the sleek wood and gently pressed it down as the beast fell to its knees.

"The battle is won," he said softly as the elf stared on with horrified eyes. He grasped his friend's shoulder, looking at him in concern. _"Mellon nin?"_

"It is a fell beast she fights," he whispered, bright eyes dimming as he lowered them to the ground. "One that I prayed I would never see."

The beast had finally collapsed, keening weakly. Black blood gushed from its neck, which was all but torn apart, and spread around it, soaking into the ground and poisoning it. Telumë continued tearing at the beast until its head was torn asunder from its body, not ceasing until it sat several paces away from the rest of the corpse.

The sky had turned dark during the fight as clouds had rolled in from the west. When it was done, she turned and limped over to where her two companions stood. Her silvery scales were stained black, and scarlet blood dripped from her snout and the other wounds littered across her body. Compared to the creature behind her, however, she had fared rather well. When she reached the pair at the edge of the woods, she slumped down, nearly collapsing in the grass. Her chin touched the grass and her body shook with tremors.

Legolas reached out to touch her, but she lifted her head, backing away from him. "No, Prince," she said. Her voice was tired and weak, and her eyes flickered between the two of them as if she could not decide whom to focus on. "The blood that covers me is poison. If you touch it, you _will _die."

The elf withdrew his hand as if burned, and Aragorn spoke, eyeing the darkening clouds with trepidation. "There was a river half a league to the South," he offered, pointing. "We should—"

"No," she answered forcefully. "Anything I touch will become alike to poison and will die. If I touch a river, it will be corrupted. If I touch skin, it will blister and burn."

Thunder rolled overhead and lightning cackled through the clouds. Telumë lifted her head to face the sky and closed her eyes as the rain began to pour, sighing. The elf and ranger stepped back as the rain washed the black sludge off the dragon's scales, making sure not to touch it as it pooled on the ground around her.

When it had slid from her body, she stepped over it onto solid ground and led the way back into the forest, never once stopping to speak to either of her companions. It was only after they had gone more than a league that she stopped and collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. The elf rushed forward and placed his hand on her side, and this time she didn't stop him. The ranger approached more slowly, but knelt by her head and placed a hand on her snout.

"What was that foul creature?" Aragorn asked, looking over at the elf.

His friend shook his head, eyes screwed shut. "I had hoped I would never see one," he whispered. "I have heard stories," he told the ranger, opening his eyes and looking up at him solemnly. "Stories of a nightmare without a name, older even than the dragons. Older even than the elves," he added softly.

Telumë shuddered, scales fluttering and shaking off small droplets of water. The thick canopy shielded them from most of the rain, but some still made it through the leaves and onto their heads. "I have heard of it," she murmured, shaking. "I knew how to fight it."

"You breathed fire," Legolas pointed out. Aragorn turned to her, eyeing her with some level of distrust. She had told them upon their meeting that she could not produce the tiniest flame, much less the inferno that had burst forth from her maw.

"I know. I did not know I could until now," she said, opening one great eye and focusing it on Aragorn. "But I did not lie to you. Either of you."

There it was again. That subtle hint; that way with words that suggested that she knew what he was thinking. He opened his mouth to speak, but Legolas beat him to it, asking a question that had lingered in his mind. "How did you?" he asked. Telumë swung her eye around to look at him instead. "How did you summon forth the flames?"

"The Grey Fell was bearing down on you," she said, momentarily giving the slaughtered beast a title. "I could feel its intentions from ten leagues away. It had been sent to kill you. I could not let that happen."

Aragorn frowned. "It was sent to kill us?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice. "By whom?"

The dragon glared back and answered testily, sarcasm dripping from hers. "Would you like to ask it?" she questioned. "I'm afraid I forgot to: I was too busy _tearing_ _it_ _apart._"

She heaved herself to her feet and stumbled around until she reached a small hallow, curling in on herself and tucking her head under her tail. Her body language made it clear that she would not be sharing her heat tonight, and that building a fire would be necessary. Aragorn glanced at Legolas, who was gazing at the dragon with a sort of dazed look on his face. He blinked, and then looked over at his friend, frowning. "She saved our lives, you know," The elf said softly, removing his pack. "You would do well to remember that."

Aragorn shifted, feeling slightly guilty by his behavior. "I'm not good at trusting people," he said softly, turning his back on the sleeping dragon and taking off his pack as well.

The sky had gone nearly completely dark, and the wind whistled through the trees. Aragorn went to start a fire, but Telumë stopped him, growling softly. "Not here," she murmured softly, bright eyes glowing softly. "Never here."

She lifted her wing and inspected it before tucking it back, making room for her two companions beside her. They looked at each other and, by some unspoken agreement, both crossed to lean against her side. Her scales were warm and dry, despite the rain. Her chest seemed to glow with a soft golden light, so when she draped her wing over them, the space was lit. The soft pitter-patter of rain tapped against the pale membrane of her wing, and the space quickly became comfortably warm. "How do you know that the creature was here to kill us?" Aragorn asked softly, stretching out on the ground and using his pack as a pillow under his head. He lay on his stomach and crossed his arms under his chest, propping himself up as he looked over at where her head should have been. It was outside the makeshift tent, keeping watch over the surrounding woods.

"It told me."

She shuddered, and Legolas noticed with concern that several of her cuts still bled onto the ground. Curiously, though, her blood was a bright red, not the inky black like that of the fell creature and that of orcs. Her scales fluttered, sounding like eaves shuddering in the wind, but settled after a moment. They waited patiently for her to speak, and her voice was heavy with dread when she finally did. "It spoke in my mind. It described all that it was going to do to you, and I—" her voice broke, and her rounded snout appeared inside the makeshift tent, inches from Aragorn's face. Her eyes were filled with fear. "I couldn't let that happen. I had hoped that I could distract it long enough for you both to escape, but when I saw you at the edge of the clearing… something snapped. I know that I had to protect you both, so I did. I promise that I did not lie to you about my ability to produce fire, though, Aragorn. Truly, before today I could not produce so much as a spark."

"How can a Cold Drake become a Fire Drake, though?" Legolas asked thoughtfully, leaning back against her side. She hummed and shifted to rest on her other side, allowing Legolas to sit back and cross his legs in front of him.

"I do not know," she answered softly. "Perhaps the Vala you spoke of whom you believe took my memory can answer your question."

"Until I reach the undying lands, I can not speak to him," Legolas answered, sounding slightly regretful. "However, it is unlikely that I will see him even then. He stays within his halls, governing the souls that pass through them."

"I understand," she answered. She pulled her head back out and resumed her watch, eyeing the darkness with apprehension. She doubted that the Grey Fell had been working alone—an arrow could have pierced its heart and destroyed it much faster than her fire had. She snorted, and although the air around her grew slightly warmer, no flames appeared from her mouth. She sighed and rested her head on her paws. She had had several more glimpses of dreams, none of them clear. That was why she had spoken to the Ent a few days prior—she had hoped that he might have had some idea of what she was experiencing. However, once she had calmed the frightened creature down and convinced him that she was not there to burn him, he had told her that he had never had an experience such as hers, having never lost his memory or been a dragon. He had, however, told her that most dragons embodied the spirits of evil elves, men, and dwarves. He had looked at her funnily, saying, "Curious, curious…" without explanation. When she asked what he meant, he replied—in a great many more, slower words, mind you—that she did not seem evil at all, and that she seemed to glow with an almost reverent light. It was around this time that the man—and the elf, who had passed so deeply into the realm of dreams so as to be considered unconscious—began to stir and she had bid the Ent farewell.

Aragorn had questioned her about the strange voice he had heard, but she shrugged, an almost human habit she somehow had acquired. She growled softly in frustration. Why couldn't she remember anything?

As she settled in, her mind began to drift. She began to shift into the realm of dreams Legolas spoke of so often, even though she remained aware of everything going on around her.

_"She was standing in the forest in the middle of the night. She was human. She was close to the Misty Mountains; very close to Rivendell, in fact. She held her sword tightly in one hand, the other tightly fisting her cloak as the freezing wind blew harder. A howl sounded from nearby, then another, then another. She began to run, never loosening her grip on the blade; her only defense against the creatures of the night. She burst into a clearing and whirled around just in time to see the first wolf burst out of the tree line. Its plate-sixed paws marred the clear snow, sending it up in an icy spray as it skidded to a stop. Its yellow eyes glinted evilly in the moonlight, and it snarled, drool dripped from its bloody maw. Her heart beat wildly against her chest, and she screamed. There was no way that anything could be worse. 'Help! Please! Someone, help!'_

_ The wolf snarled and leapt forward, catching her steel in its shoulder. It yelped and sprang away, limping, even as the next few came charging into the clearing. The glade was littered with footprints now, and the frozen, brown earth could be seen through the soiled snow. Droplets of blood speckled the pure surface, and the other wolves began to circle, eyeing her carefully._

_ She took a deep breath, turning. Every time she heard one dart forward, she would whirl around, but each time the others would take the opportunity to inch forward, tightening the noose. She cried out again as one of the wolves darted forward, snapping at her legs. '_HELP!_'_

_ Two of the wolves charged at once while the others looked on. One leapt at her sword arm, but as she batted it away, the other slammed into her from the side, knocking her to the ground. Her sword flew from her hand, hitting the wolf by happy chance, and she was defenseless. She curled into a ball as the wolves began to howl and stalk closer._

_ One brave one leapt forward and sank its teeth into her shoulder, and she screamed, jerking against it and struggling to throw it off. The sudden _twanging _of bowstrings filled the air, and the wolves scattered as the arrows found their marks. The wolf that had been biting her collapsed to the ground, releasing its hold on her shoulder. She looked up in time to see a company of men rush into the clearing, all hooded in worn travel cloaks. _

_ The one whom she presumed to be the leader knelt down beside her, pushing back his hood as he pressed his fingers against the bleeding wound in her shoulder. He looked up, grey eyes meeting her frightened green ones. 'Hold on,' Aragorn said as the girl sank back, vision blurring. 'You're safe now.'"_

_**Sorry about the delay, life's been pretty hectic lately. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the update! The Grey Fell (not really its name, but I though it fit) is one of the Nazgul's winged mounts. Also I revised chapter 9 in **__**the Princess of Mirkwood**__** (as well as 6, 7, and 8) . I'm excited about it! Now she and Thorin (as well as Fili and Kili) actually fight one another, and it really elaborates on their journey this time around. I'm sorry I didn't do it before, but… you know. Second time's the charm. I'd love reviews on what you think! **_


	6. Chapter 6

Telumë opened her eyes and was shocked to see that morning had already come. She lifted her head and looked around, startled and ashamed that she had fallen asleep on watch. The rain had stopped, thankfully, but water still dripped down from the leaves above her head. The sound of shuffling made her turn her great head and she chuckled softly when she realized that her companions were still at peace. One slept, the other dreamt, and both were fine.

The dream nagged at her, however. She tilted her head to peer down at her shoulder, the one that had been bitten in the dream, and was startled to find that the scales there were misaligned: what seemed to be the dragon equivalent to a human scar. Nosing it gently, she allowed her mind to wander as birdsong filled the air. Could it be possible that she had once been human? She knew that most dragons were the evil souls of the peoples of Middle Earth, whether they be elf, man, or dwarf. She also knew that something was different about her: had she been evil, the Grey Fell would not have attacked her. That much she knew for certain. It had spoken in her mind, a hissing, corrupt voice that had oozed malice. _"You are not one of us," _it had shrieked. _"You have been touched by he who opposes the One."_

At that point, they had clashed together, biting and scraping with their claws and teeth. Somehow, she had been relatively uninjured, and although her wing still ached, she knew she would be fine. She hummed softly and nosed Legolas' arm with her snout. If they wished to find their companions, they would need to be swift. They had less than a week to catch up to the Dúnedain, and were already several days behind.

Legolas' blue eyes focused on Telumë's green ones, and he smiled. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently, rising to his feet. She followed his movements with her eyes but did not rise yet; she allowed the ranger a few more moments of sleep before they continued on their journey.

"Better," she answered truthfully.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "But your dreams… are you not troubled by them?"

Telumë, who had reached down to nuzzle Aragorn and awaken him, jerked her head up and twisted it around to face the elf. "What?"

"You were asleep," the prince said warily, clearly remembering the white-hot flames that had poured from her maw hours before. "So I kept watch. You were growling and whimpering in your sleep. Was something wrong?"

She let out a sharp breath, and the elf's hair fluttered back from his face. "My dreams are my own," she answered, her voice edged with steel. Most would have dropped the subject, but the elf plowed on, heedless of the dragon's anger.

"You told me you would tell me if they became worse," he countered. "Did you lie?"

She growled, eyes narrowing to slits. Aragorn shifted and leaned forward with a groan, rubbing his eyes. Telumë stood and bared her teeth, speaking into the elf's mind with more force than was necessary. _"_Never _call me a liar, elfling," _she hissed, heedless to the way her chest began to glow with heat. _"I do not deceive. Do not assume that I would lie to you, or to Aragorn, or to anyone else."_

The elf stood completely still, and sweat began to form on his face and chest. Not from fear, although he was very afraid—the air around the dragoness had gone very hot, such that the water on the grass around them had evaporated. Aragorn scrambled to his feet, fumbling for his sword, but Legolas stopped him with a look and continued speaking to Telumë, calming her down.

Aragorn's panicked gaze darted between his dearest friend and the dragon they had so recently come to know, his mind whirling. Something was wrong, he decided—her eyes were too bright, too angry. She was not herself.

"I did not intend to offend you," Legolas said, reaching out with his hands to show that he meant no harm. She stood, glaring at him with those overly bright eyes, watching his every move. "Your dreams are your own, you are right—I only wish to help you. Telumë," he said softly, touching her snout although it burned him. "Look at me."

She blinked, and her eyes dimmed, unfocused. She staggered slightly, and Legolas took a quick step back. Her eyes focused on him for a moment, and she fell to the ground and curled into a surprisingly small ball, her wings wrapping around her and her head in the center, hidden from their view.

She was shaking badly, eyes wide and horrified. What had happened? It was as if she were someone—something else. A dragon? She was a dragon… wasn't she? She had come so close to attacking her friends… she had _wanted _to attack them. A small sob escaped, and boiling tears ran down her face to the ground.

She could hear the two conversing, but was ashamed to appear again. She wondered again at what the Fell Grey had said—that 'she had been touched by he who opposed the One'. What did that mean?

She felt Legolas' light touch on her shoulder. _"Telumë, we must go."_ He spoke into her mind, and she was so surprised that she uncoiled slightly and peeked up at him through her wings. _"Aragorn knows you meant no harm. Telumë, we must go. Please, come."_

She uncoiled completely and rose, hanging her head. Without looking at either of them, she set off towards the direction of the Dúnedain, wave after wave of shame washing over her. How could she have lost control like that?

Her companions started after her and they walked in silence for a long while. Eventually Telumë spoke, carefully keeping her eyes averted from those of the ranger and the elf.

"Aragorn, have you ever rescued anyone?" She asked nervously. Her tail swished back and forth along the leaves covering the ground, and she sensed his hesitation as he pondered his answer. The ranger glanced warily at Legolas, who nodded his head at the dragon as if urging him to answer.

"Yes," he finally replied. He shifted his pack, rolling his shoulders.

"How?" she asked instantaneously. "Or rather, from what?"

He stared at her back in bewilderment and blinked, completely confused. "Bandits, soldiers, orcs, mercenaries… you name the danger, and the Dúnedain have saved someone from it."

"What about wolves?" she asked, finally turning around. Her bright green eyes seemed to glow in the growing gloom of the forest. As they made their way closer and closer to Mirkwood, shadows covered more and more of their surroundings.

He thought back to the lone girl several years ago, the one who had been attacked by a pack of wolves near Imladris. "Aye," he replied shortly. The foolish girl had run off as soon as her shoulder was mended, barely thanking Lord Elrond for his kindness and avoiding the rangers altogether.

Telumë stopped and turned around. Aragorn was so startled that he nearly ran into her. Her eyes were bright and panicked, and they searched his face as she spoke. "Who were they?"

"Stop."

Telumë and Aragorn froze and looked to Legolas, who held his hand in the air and searched the woods with keen eyes. Telumë listened carefully but heard nothing. The wood was eerily silent. The elf began leading them through the trees, moving swiftly and silently, turning back every few moments to wave them on. They made it two leagues before Telumë caught the scent of men. She growled softly and nudged Aragorn forward, thus quickening the pace of the entire company.

They emerged at the edge of a clearing, but Telumë moved to stand in front of the others, not allowing them to cross. She looked into Legolas' eyes, veiling her own. _"I can smell them," _she told him.

He nodded and held out his arm, catching Aragorn across the chest as he tried to step over Telumë's tail. _"And I can hear them. Do they mean us harm?"_

A hunting horn sounded in the distance, and Telumë jumped. The sound was faint, but her scales fluttered nervously, and her tail whipped across the ground.

_"They know we are here," _she thought to him, an undercurrent of panic highlighting her fear. Legolas repeated her words to Aragorn in elvish, and the ranger reached for his sword. "No!" Telumë hissed, tucking her wings close to her sides and lying down under a large bush so as to conceal her silvery scales. "Do not draw your weapons."

She searched for them with her nose and ears, and froze when she realized what was happening. She sat still, horror and fear crashing over her like enormous, heart-stopping waves. They were tracking her.

Most of the day, Aragorn had walked in her tracks; and elves, of course, made no prints on the ground. The men were tracking a grounded dragon. She was unable to discern their intentions, but if they were anything like the murderers they had encountered weeks before, she would be dead in hours. She glanced at her companions, both of whom were too noble to allow someone to die for them without a fight. Her heart ached at the knowledge that she would have to leave them, but she knew it was the right thing to do. She stood and began making her way around the clearing without a thought.

"Wait!" Legolas leapt over a fallen log and darted to stand on front of her, blocking her way. She growled and tried to move around him, but he refused to move.

"I swore to protect you, elfling," she murmured. "Both of you. The men are tracking me and will not harm you if I am gone. Stay here, and my debt will be repaid. I will not have you risk your lives again for mine."

Aragorn came and stood beside Legolas, arms folded over his chest. She nosed her way in between them and began stalking away quickly, making sure to gouge the earth with her claws. Her companions followed, despite her warning. The horn sounded again, much closer than before, and she began to gallop, ducking over and around branches as best she could. Her shoulder ached. When she heard the two still breathing behind her, her fear grew, and she swung around, catching Aragorn in the chest with her bony jaw. He was not hurt badly, thankfully, merely winded. He stepped back.

_"Go!"_ she wailed in her mind, genuinely distressed. She could hear them now, moving quickly and quietly towards her. Knowing it was her only option, she swung her head again, throwing Aragorn into Legolas and knocking both of them to the ground. Before they realized what had happened, she took off across the clearing, focusing on the opposite tree line.

Halfway there. She could hear a river now, and she knew that if she could cross it, she would be safe.

Three quarters of the way there. The hunting horn sounded again, directly behind her. She moved faster, the small cuts hidden beneath her scales burning from the sweat. Did dragons sweat?

She though back to her dream as a flash of movement to her right caught her eye. She darted to the left, yards away from the trees. The horn sounded, directly in front of her. She reeled back, terrified and confused. Another answered, this one behind her. She whipped her head around, watching the dark headed men who had appeared around her. Each was clad in dark clothing much like Aragorn's, and each was armed with bow and blade.

One approached from before her, sword drawn, and she snarled at him, coiling as if to spring. His face was veiled in shadow, but she could see beyond it. He had bright grey eyes that roved over her body and the men beyond her. He seemed wary, but to her surprise, he didn't seem ready to attack her. He held his sword defensively, and she crouched low to the ground, tail flicking back and forth, neither breathing eye contact with the other.

"Tengrid, enough!"

Aragorn strode through the procession, and the men whose weapons were drawn immediately sheathed them, nodding towards the ranger. The king, Telumë remembered. _Their _king.

"Aragorn," the man spoke, sheathing his sword and catching the ranger in a welcoming embrace. Legolas stood by the dragoness, one hand on her shoulder as she rose to her full height and observed those around her. "It is good to see you!"

"We did not expect to see you for half a fortnight, at least," Aragorn said softly, brow furrowing. "Did something happen?"

A shadow crossed the other man's face. Aragorn looked around the circle into the eyes of some of his men, and several of the other rangers glanced away as if afraid to hold his gaze for too long. "Aye," he said finally. "We happened upon a village not a hundred leagues from the land of the Carrock. Aragorn… every man, woman, and child had been slain." His face was too pale, too afraid. "Children, Aragorn." His voice cracked and wavered, and he looked away, shoulders sagging. "We thought that… that only orcs would do such a thing. When we found the tracks of men—men!—leading northeast, towards where we knew you to be, we followed."

"We found them," Aragorn said softly, grasping Tengrid's shoulder tightly. The man straightened up as if his leader's strength had seeped into him through his grip. "They were seeking to slay both us and our companion. Some were injured, some killed, but all scattered. We know not where they went."

"Yes, we do."

Every man save Aragorn turned in surprise when Telumë spoke. Although it was known by some that dragons could speak, it still came as a shock to hear the voice of a young woman instead of that of a grown man.

"What do you mean, Telumë?" Aragorn asked. Dozens of pairs of eyes turned to focus on her, waiting for her to speak again.

The dragon turned and looked to Legolas as if seeking assurance, and he nodded. The earth itself seemed to hold its breath as she spoke, and not a man said a word as she explained herself. "My companions and I happened upon a village half a fortnight ago," she said clearly, then wind carrying the sound to every ear in the clearing. "Every human had been brutally slaughtered as if worth little more than a beast. Indeed, even the beasts had been killed and left in the fields to rot." The memory of the unborn babies entered her mind, and she shuddered. Several eyes were drawn in fascination to her scales as they fluttered like leaves caught in the wind, but they returned to her meet her eyes when she continued speaking. "Even the unborn children—" her voice broke, and she hung her head, sorrow blossoming in her chest. "Even the unborn children were slain, ripped from their mothers wombs and placed upon the heads of spears."

The faces of the men went chalk white, though from anger of grief, she did not know. "We—we buried them," she said, her voice rising in pitch. "And while doing so, I saw a—a vision. It was the same men who desecrated this village, and yours, and the one I saw in my mind. The man who murdered the girl's brother was the same who injured my wing, and he is dead."

The men murmured amongst themselves. She realized too late that she had revealed more about her visions than she had intended, and braced herself for the questions that were sure to follow. "What girl?"

The question came from a man with straw-colored hair and steely grey eyes. His hand gripped his bow loosely, but no arrow was set to the string, and his sword was not drawn.

"In my vision, I saw a young girl," she explained carefully, aware that the men remained wary of her. Indeed, she knew that the only reason they had not acted in hostility was because of her station as Aragorn's companion. Eru knew what a mistake could cost her. She didn't wish for any of these men to become her enemies, and she would prefer that they thought her sane rather than unhinged. "A girl who wept over the dying form of her brother. His murderer was the same who tried to kill me; the same man who killed your people."

"How do you know?" a different man asked. His eyes were different colors: one green, one blue. They stared at hers, unblinking. All eyes, she realized, even those of Aragorn and Legolas, were riveted on her.

She swallowed as the scent of blood and sweat reached her nostrils. She heard the phantom clash of steel, heard the cries of dying men, and felt the burn of a sword hacking through her bone. She felt again the soft skin and tissue of a human neck as she tore through it with her teeth, felt the hot lifeblood of a man drip down her throat as her teeth sawed through his bone. She focused again on the men before her, and they each saw the horrified, haunted look in her eye as she turned and faced them one by one. She dropped her gaze but for a moment. "I killed him," she answered. "I wore his blood." She lifted her head and glared fiercely at Tengrid. He, to his credit, did not flinch, even when forced into a stare down against a dragon. A gleam of understanding entered his eye, and he nodded sadly to her as she spoke. Legolas placed his hand on her shoulder once again for comfort, and Aragorn lifted his silver gaze to meet her own. Every ranger felt his heart jolt, and not one of them felt fear or anger towards her as she spoke: only a great sorrow. "I know his scent as well as I know my own."


End file.
